GEORGE H. GURLEY

From my window I can observe a congregation of large brown monoliths on my neighbor’s hillside. They might be religious artifacts of some...

My wife’s new weed bucket reminds me of Edward Lear’s immortal nonsense poem, “The Owl and the Pussycat.” These two intrepid travelers...

The other day, as I stretched out to take a nap, the wheels of memory started to turn of their own accord. I dozed and watched like a...

I had my first epiphany about writing in college. When I turned in the first draft of my senior thesis, my advisor sent it back with a...